


Perfect Blend

by besttransplant



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Andersen isn't there but he's mentioned a lot, Angst, Character Study, Coffee, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Ritsuka uses mostly she but also she/they, not necessarily shippy but its still a close relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28517664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/besttransplant/pseuds/besttransplant
Summary: "Days passed and melded into a week. Several favors were exchanged, and Chaldea’s sole master was grateful for the endless generosity of her Servants. The Count was none the wiser, for his Master was always kind to heroes, and tolerated demons such as he."Ritsuka plans something nice for Dantes. It doesn't quite go as planned.
Relationships: Edmond Dantès | Avenger & Fujimaru Ritsuka, Edmond Dantès | Avenger/Fujimaru Ritsuka
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Perfect Blend

**Author's Note:**

> ah, im so glad to get this out! dantes didn't come home for the na gssr, so maybe this'll be a catalyst for him in July. special thanks to a buncha cool fate authors I've talked to while writing this; y'all inspire me to keep writing and exploring these characters ^_^ I hope you enjoy it! please leave any comments or kudos if you do, and thank you for reading!

Diplomacy was a skill Ritsuka had to hone upon joining Chaldea, not unlike a baby having to hone swimming upon being tossed off the deep end of a pool. She was subject to the whims of countless strange, larger than life figures whose powers were the key to humanity’s survival, so it made rational sense to maintain pleasant relations with each familiar at her disposal.

Familiars…what little they knew of familiars before made them sound like magical pets, not red-blooded warriors. Mages treated them as the former quite often, and yet she could never fathom treating them anything less than equals. They carried humanity’s last hope as heavily as she did after all.

This motivation brought her to the lounge, sparkling spiked cider in hand, a crude flush dusting her cheeks for her evening reconnaissance mission.

“And he said that _aaaaaaaall_ he has is some ‘determination filled with darkness’! What kind of answer is that, hmm? Jalter, please?” Ritsuka chirped, catching themselves from spilling their drink. They spent far too long picking out this little black dress only to stain it halfway through the night.

Jalter, sharing her third bottle of red wine with the composer Salieri, guffawed at her beloved Master. “You give him too much credit! For a man with a brick of a catalyst, he’s thinner than a lick of flame!”

She pours the other Avenger another glass, to which he nods in gratitude. Ritsuka gives him her best puppy dog eyes, and he can hardly contain a chuckle.

“Do not look at me, Master. The demon can hardly stay long enough after a recital for me to thank him. I almost thought he hated me!” Salieri took a long sip from his wine, and she can see Jalter itching to chug the rest of the bottle behind him. The composer playfully slapped away her devious little talons before she pulled back with a pout.

“The only thing the Count likes more than vengeance is a long nap, I know that much. Baby me had a helluva time dragging him out bed for ember farming the other day.” Jalter said, twirling a stray lock of platinum hair around her finger, leaning against the bar’s edge.

Ritsuka folded her arms, deflating like an orange balloon onto the freshly cleaned table. The Archer of Shinjuku was nowhere to be found, but the hints of his cologne lingered on the marble surface, coupling well with the soft neon lights of the lounge. It was stylish, lined with chrome and cool blue installations. It is easily her favorite corner of the entire facility. If only she could find such a roost for the morning; somewhere nice and cozy to watch the sun come up from, high above the raging blizzards with her morning coffee, enjoying the early quiet of the day—

Jalter poked her cheek and broke her out of her reverie. Ritsuka sputtered and the witch giggled.

“What kinda sourpuss look is that? Dumbass.”

Ritsuka sighed and smiled at her sheepishly. “Ah, I was just thinking about how bad the coffee around here is. I used so much when I was a student! People said I used too much sugar and cream, but it was always too bitter…” She trailed off when she caught the look in Salieri’s eye, ruby red in the dazzling light of the bar.

The composer slammed his hands against the marble. “Coffee! The cavernous beast loves it! Da Vinci was driven up a wall to find the right kind for him ages ago, only to lose it in that avalanche! Ah Master, forgive this old Grim Reaper for forgetting.” Salieri stepped up at the memory, holding his Master by the shoulders so tight, it makes her blush burn hotter.

“A-aah! I-I appreciate your good mood but there’s no need to be excited!”

Antonio laughed, pride bursting from the seams at his puffed-out chest. “Nonsense! A step closer to taming that beast is a step closer to saving all of humanity from a damnable fate. Barkeep, another round for me and the dragon witch!” The composer stepped away to search behind the table for the Archer, deaf to Ritsuka’s pleas for him to calm down.

“…I thought I asked you to keep You Know Who tied up across the building?” Ritsuka asked Jalter.

The witch shrugged, biting her fourth cork of the night off the bottle with gleaming canines, stolen from behind the table. “I asked the tiny French lesbian to keep him occupied for the night. Not my fault if he’s naturally a weirdo!”

*~*~*~*~*

_Falling, fast, light, too fast, gone, falling, rushing, the air, the water, the weight, the knife on his ankle, hot and cold and water and hurt, hurt, hurt. The hurt, pushing and pulling him to the surface, breaks through cloth and metal and water and air. Silvery hair, silvery hands, a ghosts’ hands, clawing like a beast for air. Clawing his way to land, cold, grainy, cold, cold, and somehow, he lives to feel the sun on his face again._

_Narrow eyes, narrow ribs, narrow lies, narrow rooms and walls, wooden and rotten and teeming with filth. Warmth like a trash pile set ablaze, hurt and hate and something beyond it driving him to hold his tongue. A cup thrust into his hands, muddy against ghostly hands, bitter and cold and a wave of vomit blocked from escaping. Grog, freshwater kept fresh, a shallow lie as deep as the depths that could have taken him prisoner once again. He takes it all, downs it, lets the embers ignite his bones, ignite his mind and body, keeps the hate alight. He nearly longs for those depths._

_A pittance to his name, the shops of Monte Cristo greet him with dim, flickering oil lamps. The barkeep doesn’t let him choose a spirit, claims to know a dead man walking when he sees it and the cure to raise him back. Venom at the ready, quickly swallowed down when he smells something rich, something of the earth, wet and hot and dark._

_A ceramic bowl, almost a cup, pressed between his palms. Heat radiates up his arms, into his heart, over his soul, sets his machinations ablaze so wildly that he almost forgets his agony, for one blissful, beautiful moment. He scalds his lips on the first gulp, and the keeper laughs heartily. The blessed man gives the damned man the Lord’s prayer before offering it as an alm. The dead man does not speak, only drinks._

_Liquid fire pours into him, and the King of the Cavern plots._

_*~*~*~*~*_

“So that dream was him? Are you sure of it, Senpai?” Mash stroked the downy fur on Fou’s little head as he dozes off in her lap, cradled in the plush blanket Ritsuka gave her.

Ritsuka dunked her teabag idly, takes a sip when it’s just right. Her face pulled tight; she forgot the honey again.

“I am. After what Jalter and Antonio said, he’s the only one who would make sense. You’ve read the book, right?”

Mash nodded, smiling as Fou hiccuped in his sleep. “Dr. Roman really loved it too. I think I got the bigger copy for class though…what did you think of it?”

Ritsuka sighed, putting her teacup down, squinting pensively across the room. To retrieve the honey or not to retrieve the honey. The tough decisions always come down to her, huh.

“I thought it was long, but I liked it a lot. He certainly lives up to the book, but I never thought he would be stuck like…that!” She stood up and straightened her pajamas, catching a glimpse at the clock.

“It’s like…wasn’t he supposed to be happy, or free at the end? It hardly seems fair to him. I just want to make him want to stay and fight with me, with Chaldea. Working so hard, and he can’t enjoy it long after his story was told. With the right catalyst, we could find someone to keep him company?”

Mash looked on curiously from her comfy spot. “That could prove difficult since his compatriots weren’t as well-known…and I doubt that he would have any nice things to say to Dumas if he was summoned.”

“…I suppose. I hardly have any leads as it is. A good cup of coffee can’t cure your depression, so I just need to keep looking.” Ritsuka’s pacing threatened to burn a hole in the floor, the balls of her heels aching with each quick turn. She stopped and hung her head low, a common sight for Mash when the usual round of farming proved unproductive.

“…I just want to lift his spirits. To let him know that he isn’t just a beast to me. He’s my friend. My accomplice.”

Mash fought off the urge to nod off. Ritsuka smiled at her cute kouhai.

“You’ll figure it out, Senpai. Promise.” She whispered, eyes fluttering in the dim light.

“Thanks, Mash. Goodnight.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The walk back to her room is quiet, with the cool blue light of the hallways keeping her bright awake with her quickly cooling tea. The honey hunt carried her to the nearest break room, closer than the cafeteria and more stocked than her own dormitory. She turned into the break room to come upon a strange yet familiar sight:

A humanoid figure, more shadows than man, swirled around the center table. Ritsuka’s instinct to run from such creatures faded when she spied dazzling citrine eyes focused on a miniscule foam cup in front of it. A steaming kettle shrieked on the stovetop, and she goes unnoticed as it struggles to collect itself.

“I’m terribly sorry we couldn’t get you something stronger, Count.” Ritsuka said, stepping into the room as normally as if they were coworkers on a lunch break. The cloud of vengeance and hatred remembered its manners and collected itself into the Avenger, sans hat and cloak, his windswept hair tied back into a loose ponytail. He was as sharp and dangerous half-dressed as when his silhouette normally billows in the shadows. Her mouth went dry upon gazing at his face. One eye was covered, while the other watched her as a cat watches its owner: knowing yet dubious.

“It is my responsibility and mine alone to contain these dark flames within me, Ritsuka. A sour cup of this…is just a distraction.” He motioned at the steaming cup in front of him. With the consistency of mud, it stood with no cream or sugar soften the impunity of it all. Ritsuka’s insides churned. She remembered her rank and stood aright, Command Seals glowing bright against her white pajama shirt.

“You shouldn’t be up this late anyways, Count! We’ll have plenty of time to train and fight in the morning. Save your strength for Skadi and I tomorrow, please?” She plead, hoping her words wouldn’t amount to pity under his keen gaze.

“Keh-heh-heh…you forget where the strongest battles lie, my accomplice. I am always ready to battle for you, be it in the world of the waking, or in the realm of dreams.” Dantes stepped in close with a proud smile reserved for his most sordid enemies. Pointed at Ritsuka, it felt like a challenge, like a triumph, a boast. She tried to steel her gaze, but her chest grew tight with an emotion she could not place.

“Rest is a luxury not reserved for demons like me, Master. Remember that, and all our foes will fall away. Use me as you would use an accursed blade to seal away our enemies’ doom!” With that, he slapped his hand on her shoulder, his warmth shocking her before he burst into a specter of darkness, melting into the shadows of the room and leaving her all alone.

Her ears burn with the hissing of the kettle and the heat of her cheeks travelling up, up to where she plotted a new luxury for the Count.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Days passed and melded into a week. Several favors were exchanged, and Chaldea’s sole master was grateful for the endless generosity of her Servants. The Count was none the wiser, for his Master was always kind to heroes, and tolerated demons such as he.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ritsuka’s feet thundered down the stairwells, down towards the dorms reserved for the Extra class. Room arrangements were constantly shifting with the whims of their director, and a class-based system faired better than a geographical one. It took one day of chaos from the French and Greek floors to scrap that idea entirely. A dedicated training room for the Berserkers, an extensive library and laboratory for the Casters, and so on allowed for more efficient resource allocation.

Despite the innate difference of each floor, the glaring fluorescent lights of Chaldea remained the same. She shuffled groggily with the remaining sleep in her eyes towards the Count’s study.

She knocked thrice, giddy in the chest.

“Count? I have something to show you, for the upcoming battles today. It’s urgent.” She said, half whispering to not arouse the other servants. She checked her watch, dreading if he rises too late. She shoved down her eagerness to give the Count a moment to rise.

Did he not say that she should only call his name to summon him? She would totally take advantage of that if it truly worked right now. Her command seals glowed innocently in the corner of her eye.

“…fate of humanity, fate of humanity…”, She mumbled.

Ritsuka held her wrist at the level of her eye.

“By my Command Seal, Count of Monte Cristo…I bid you to wake up and open the door to your room…w-wah, with clothes on!”

All three Seals burned up in an instant, and her head dropped.

“Why all three…!”

Despite the waste of mana, Ritsuka perked up once she hears the rustling of sheets and clothes. She almost forgot that she had poked the den of an Avenger in her glee, right up to when his door slid open.

The first thing that struck Ritsuka were the faded scars slashing around his neckline and chest, bare in the loose pajama shirt he wore. His hair was wild without the hat, a tumultuous mess without his hat. Slouched against the doorway to his study, the half-baked snarl his lips gave her pause to explain herself before she can even blush, until she saw…

“Tigers? Really, Count?”

The smiling plush faces of two Bengal tigers peered up at humanity’s last hope from their place on the Count’s feet.

His tone was serious as a heart attack. “That blasted Dane thought it a good idea to celebrate the day of my birth. Still doesn’t listen when I tell him that I am not the man born then, but they do make the nights a bit easier.” The Count flexeed his feet within the slippers, and Ritsuka struggles to not break down into squeals at the cute little whispers on their plush maws.

“They’re so cute! Tyger, tyger, burning bright?” She chided, poking him in the shoulder.

He took a deep sigh and nods. “These slippers make me feel more like the Lamb than the Tyger, frankly. I’d like to believe I leave an impression of sterner stuff than…toys.”

Ritsuka took his hands into her own, looking up into his own burning eyes. “I think he seeks to insert some levity in your life, Count. He means no harm.” She squeezed them gently, that giddy feeling fizzling up like a soda can being shaken. “Neither do I.”

His watchful gaze softened. Ritsuka saw something unlike him there: remorse. “You needn’t concern yourself with me, Master, I assure you.”

Ritsuka’s focus narrowed down to him, resolved, and she smiles bright.

“Come with me, Count. I have something important to show you.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Windows felt like a trivial addition to Chaldea. There were no skydecks, no balconies or patios in the facility. There were hardly any halls that opened at the ground level, save a few maintenance entrances. It was a foregone conclusion that Chaldea’s location was not chosen for the view. Regardless, Ritsuka knew of a few remarkable spots on the higher floors of the building with long windows affording a view of…whatever snowstorms were blowing ferociously outside.

This is what Dantes noticed when they first exited the stairwell: a crisp, clear view of the arctic sun peering above the horizon, filtering golden rays into the frosty blue and white hallway.

“…Ritsuka?”

His Master beamed as bright as sunshine at him. “Come, come!” She pulled him eagerly into the hall, to a small table with seats touching the inches of glass that kept them out from the frigid cold.

“I…What is…” The Count began, eyes flickering bright with confusion at the table’s contents, expression growing increasingly flustered, fidgeting in his seat.

“I think you know what it is! Or rather, parts of it.” Ritsuka said, her chest aching with pride at the astonished look on the Count’s face.

She was referring to the curved glass flask, the jar of fine dark grounds, the small mesh cage, the filter paper folded neatly in a stack, the electric kettle steaming on its base, and a set of mugs, cream, and sugar fit for a casual brunch.

“It took some time to get everything, but it was easier to ask for than I thought! Paracelus gave me the glassware, Avi was generous enough to make the cage, Osakabehime had the right paper, I took the kettle and sugar from the breakroom—oh! You can guess who gave me the grounds if you want.”

Gingerly, slowly, as if it would break the illusion, Dantes held the jar of grounds. He flipped the lid, expressionless, and took a deep breath in of its contents.

On that slow exhale, Ritsuka swore she could see every ounce of tension leave him. His brow unwrinkled, and his shoulders rolled down.

“Arabic coffee…flavored with cardamom…Kuku, so Scheherazade has been holding out on William and Hans? Serves them right, she deserves a bountiful reserve!” Dantes boomed in delight, handing the jar to Ritsuka gently.

“How many cups, Count?”

He pondered for a quiet moment. “Two for me, if you have enough to spare. If not, just one.”

What followed was pure muscle memory. Placing the cage at the mouth of the flask, folding the filter gently inside, scooping out the grounds and shaking the excess off the top, and finally pouring the water around the ring of coffee felt like coming home. The first puffs of steam rose from the grounds frothing with the hot water, and they both leaned forward to smell it.

“This is remarkable, Master. You’ve outdone yourself.” Dantes said when he relaxed back into his seat, granting her a rare smile untinged with vengeance. She returned it in kind but couldn’t relax with that hummingbird heartbeat coursing through her. _Success!_

The look of satisfaction was plain to read on Dantes’ face, unguarded for Ritsuka alone. The more she looked at him, the more she noticed how modern the airs he put on were; timelessly charming, attentive, intuitive, wealthy in soul and spirit with every glance and word. How could a man seem like he could exist at any point in time when he was born between the pages of an epic? In the minutes that passed quietly, between her watching the sunrise and pouring more water into the decanter, she tried to place the Count somewhere else in time: a truth-seeking journalist, a librarian surrounded by rich leather books, a captain on the high seas—

Perhaps the Count realized that he was the source of Ritsuka’s focus, for his barricades rose once more, looking off into the clear horizon. Little less than half the sun broke golden rays over the frozen peaks in the distance. Water seeped into the grounds between them as the only element breaking the stillness of morning.

“And what of the storm?”

“Hm?” Ritsuka perked up from her thoughts.

“Which favor did you procure to show me the light at the proverbial tunnel, hm? That saint, I presume? It almost feels like an ending right out of Andersen’s fairy tales. Then again, villains never ride into the sunset at the end, do they?”

Her stomach dropped. “I didn’t call on her, Count. That was Mash’s job; she seemed confident in who to ask for help and I assumed it would be a nice surprise anyways.”

The Count huffed and turned to the droplets pooling into a steady trickle of dark brew. His eyes suddenly drew narrow at Ritsuka.

“Master, why are you doing this?”

Ritsuka opened her mouth, but a raised hand kept her quiet, set her off kilter.

“You are forbidden from giving me any drivel about making nice with all of your familiars. You know that I do not require such frivolities to maintain a stable Spirit Origin here.” He cocked his head to the side, hair parting to meet her gaze with both shining eyes, piercingly so.

Ritsuka could say or do a lot of things to embarrass herself, burn herself out with all the truth she wished to jam into the Avenger’s twisted view of her intentions. She decided to take a page out of the bluebird’s own tale.

“Andersen is right about you, Dantes.”

At that, the Avenger gripped the small table with bleach white knuckles. His gaze hardened. Gone was that ephemeral whimsy and warm he effused.

“He told me once, about another king of sorts that fought so hard for others, that he neglected himself in the process. He ignored that his pain brought pain to others…brought pain to me. I almost thought he was trying to hit two very angry ducklings with one stone with that observation!” Ritsuka exclaimed, forcing herself to look the Count in the eye, as if he might escape into a puff of smoke should she let up on the pressure.

“Regardless of how you feel about that, I wanted to remind you that you are just as deserving of kindness and friendship as any other Servant under my watch. When I saw that dream, it told me of a way to give back to you, even if it was something small like this. Feeling that cup warm your hands, it brought me back to university when I was scared and alone and tired. I could feel the relief in your palms because I had felt it before too.”

Dantes’ chest rose and fell with increasing tempo, peaking when Ritsuka’s words brought back flashbacks to those accursed days, when that man was only beginning to flicker to life with the embers of vengeance burning in his heart. She swore she could make out dark flames sparking at his fingertips, but he snapped both wrists violently at his sides in a wordless frenzy, landing them both squarely on his trembling face. When he pulled them back, she could not tell if the red staining his cheeks was from his strike or a natural blush. He shot bright hot daggers at her with a single look.

“You…You wound me, Master. You truly believe that something as wretched as I deserve this?” The Count made a grand sweeping motion with his arms, shivering ardently now. His face struggled to twist into that signature cruel smirk of his, but it twitched loose so easily. “Deserves coffee and toys and treats? You find a demon such as I in need of friends!?” His voice tapered off into a pitiful growl, and Ritsuka’s heart broke with it. He clutched his shoulders in agony, arching down as if he could disappear on the spot, folding into himself. A dark aura of wicked miasma crowned his silhouette.

A prickle of wet heat tipped Ritsuka’s eyes, but her better nature marched forth. With it, a pip of laughter sprung free and she held her mouth to not offend. “My dear Count, we have the _literal_ embodiment of all the world’s evils in our ranks and even he deserves a chance at happiness here. You are no exception.”

The Count grasped the corner of his head—a common tic—as his defenses crumbled before her feet.

“That is…! But he is…!”

A soft hand covered his own and it pierced through him. He staggered and finally looked up.

Ritsuka’s gaze was soft, yet carried that same determination he knew well from the fire of battle.

“You are not special, Dantes. You deserve all these things and more, just like anyone else. People care for you, people want to give you kindness, without anything in return. I don’t expect you to understand or accept that, but you will listen me and know that I’m not lying to you. And I swear that I will keep showing you that as long as you are still my Servant.”

Long, painful moments passed in silence. The Count was frozen in place. Slowly, he receded his limbs behind the edge of the table, looking down into his lap, his face obscured under the clouds of his bangs. Ritsuka let him recover, collect himself. She silently hoped that the coffee is still hot. Her heart raced as his silence lengthens. Finally, he rose.

“I have been an…unruly guest, and a failure of a gentleman this morning, Master. I hope that you will forgive my outburst.” Dantes said, voice dark with guilt. His eyes flick between his Master and the rising sun. The sun is well in the sky but Ritsuka could only look at the blush still dotting the Count’s cheeks. It will surely be the talk of everyone when they rise, including the director, but the thought escaped Ritsuka and she lets herself admire the Count’s softened, open gaze again. Her thumb drew circles on the table and she gave him a small smile.

“Apologies accepted, Count. Let me pour you a cup before one of those authors catches us, hm?” Ritsuka said, already reaching to set aside the cage and serve Dantes. The glass radiated blessed, earthy warmth through her palms, and she was careful not to split a single drop in her haste.

The ceramic clinked with the addition of cream and sugar at her spoon. The Count looked down at the mug held in his open palms for a split second before tipping the beverage back wholeheartedly. The movement reminded her of Salieri and Jalter in the lounge and she smiled broadly. Perhaps she could drag him along one night?

“How does it taste, Dantes?” She pulled the mug up to take a closer smell, delighted by the rich, spiced smell of her blend.

Edmond Dantes gave her an artless smile. “It is the most perfect blend of coffee and spices I have ever had, Ritsuka. Thank you for…your kindness, towards me.”

**Author's Note:**

> ritsuka: u deserve nice things too u edgy bich  
> dantes, screaming on a coffee table: I AM DARKNESS INCARNATE  
> me, writing this: yea I hate myself too bud
> 
> find me @druidqueen_ on twit and @druidqueen on tumblr...if u dare.


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